Chapter 2.01
Monday, May 13th, 2002
Lorne was, unsurprisingly enough, normally
of the disposition to sing in the bath. Somehow, though, the
idea of getting all dressed up for a date that he'd neither
instigated nor agreed to was having a negative effect on his
musical urges. It wasn't that she was an unattractive woman.
He could think of a few mornings when he'd woken up with a decidedly
less physically appealing female lying next to him.
If she'd walked into Caritas back in the day,
who knows? Maybe he would have stood her a drink, got her to
sing a little something and maybe they might have hit
it off. No, it was this whole 'Do as I say or Something Might
happen to those kids' thing that made him want to tuck tail,
or other parts, and run. He just hoped that that whole aggressive
thing was a front. Even with the best will in the world, Lorne
couldn't see himself performing on demand with that hanging
over him. Maybe in private she might display a softer side and
give him something he could relate to.
The whole situation had him vacillating between
outrage at being treated like some sort of whore, anxiety about
her expectations, fear of what could happen to the kids if he
didn't live up to them and curiosity as to what might have happened
had they met under other circumstances. Was she even genuinely
attracted to him or was she getting her kicks from her power
over him? It wasn't like he could ask her to hum a few bars,
was it?
Lorne gave a sigh and returned to getting washed
up as quickly as possible, because sunken tub not withstanding,
there was something about being naked when hostile strangers
could walk in whenever they pleased that he found detracted
from the whole luxury bathing experience.
It was probably this that had deterred any
of the teenagers from making use of the bathroom for more than
just a cursory wash. Either that or they thought he was a jolly,
green paedophile, one of the two. Ugh. There was a thought he
didn't want to take any further.
Just as he was at that point where he was stepping
out of the tub but hadn't quite managed grab a towel, he heard
the outer door of the room open. He grasped at the towel rail,
one foot in the bath and one out, frantically trying to get
covered up in case whoever it was decided to come in and make
a nuisance of themselves.
Fortunately, it seemed that he wasn't about
to be interrupted. He could make out the voice of the same convivial
guard who had set him to work on Spike's care.
"Tell the frog prince that he's got ten minutes
to get dressed and get you lot out into the living room. We're
moving out."
Lorne yanked open the bathroom door, wearing
nothing but a towel. "What's happening, sweet cheeks?" he asked
the thug. "There's another two hours before I'm due to dine
with her ladyship."
"Yeah? Well, ain't that a shame. Get a move
on, Kermit," the guard barked.
Lorne made his way into the living room with
the teenagers filing out behind him.
He surveyed the scene with some little amazement.
Three or four people were scurrying back and forth laden with
luggage. In the midst of it all, Scheherazade paused in what
she was doing to watch Lorne and his troupe make their way downstairs.
"I guess things aren't going quite so well
for our heroine as she was expecting." Despite his words Lorne
deliberately kept his tone as conciliatory as he could. After
all, it wasn't just his life he was playing with.
"You could say that." The woman gave a shrug
that seemed inconsistent with her normally elegant bearing.
"It seems there's been a minor setback. Certain plans are having
to be put into operation somewhat sooner than we anticipated.
Look, there are a number of ways this little
scenario can go. It depends not so much on you as on the kids
as to which one we chose." She let her gaze pass over the group,
meeting the eyes of each one in turn.
"Any of you that want to be on the next chopper
out of here have one option. We've got enough narcotics here
to fuck up each and every one of you.
The only way you're getting on that chopper
is if you are so wasted that no one is going to believe a word
you have to say. Of course, dumping you on the street in that
sort of condition anything could happen to you before
you're able to look after yourself.
Your other choice is that we set you loose
to wander till you find your way to some sort of civilisation.
Of course, that option has its drawbacks, too. Chances are you'll
die of hunger or exposure before you find anywhere, but hey,
a bunch of kids getting lost in the middle of nowhere. All the
cops can tut away about these kids who come up in the mountains
without proper footwear or equipment. When they eventually find
the bodies, that is. If they ever do.
Lastly, you could choose to wait it out here.
There's enough canned food and stuff up here to last you a month
once the fresh stuff runs out. The water feed runs in from a
natural reservoir so you should be okay there, providing you
remember to boil it before you drink it. But that might be a
problem. See, without someone topping up the generator, the
electricity will go off in a matter of hours. You'll probably
run out of gas cylinders after a couple of weeks. In theory,
you could use firewood, but then, we'll be locking you in tight.
So, I guess you'll just have to hope someone turns up before
then. I'm guessing you'll be worrying about who to have for
dinner before you need to worry about the septic tank. You just
have to decide if you think anyone will come to find you before
it gets to that stage.
Assuming you think anyone will miss you. You
have fifteen minutes to decide what you want to do, and it's
all or nothing. Whatever you choose, that's it for the whole
group.
You," she continued, turning her attention
to Lorne, "are a whole different matter. We're going to be too
busy to baby-sit anyone. It's not like you can go to the police,
but you do hang around with all those pesky do-gooders. If we
put you back into the general population, you'll have all your
little friends out looking for this bunch in no time." Her lips
folded into a rueful smile that Lorne was convinced was a sham.
"Sorry, sweet thing, but that just doesn't
fit with our plans. We need some time to make some arrangements
before the authorities catch up with who we used to be, if you
catch my drift. So, whatever the kids decide to do, you stay
here. That's the best deal you get."
"I guess I might as well fix myself a drink,
then." The green demon tested his bounds.
"Sure, help yourself. Might as well make yourself
at home while you sit here keeping your fingers crossed that
Angel can actually manage an investigation. Seems to me that
they're probably missing their ex-watcher round about now.
You should hope he does a better job of finding
you than he made of trying to find that seer of yours... cause
that's all the hope you've got."
Half an hour later, the helicopter took off.
Lorne listened to the whirr of the rotors in the distance. The
kids had stayed. He had known they would, and he suspected Scheherazade
had known, too. If he could pick up on the signs that one of
the girls was pregnant, then he was fairly certain the vampire
would have picked up on the second heartbeat, even if they hadn't
heard her and her boyfriend talking about it. The whole choice
thing had just been a way to set the group at odds with each
other. One last cruel joke, like asking them to choose how they
wanted to die.
For now the kids seemed happy enough, laying
claim to their own rooms and exploring the confines of their
luxury prison. Some of them had joined him in raiding the drinks
cabinet. He'd managed to convince them to hold off on smashing
up the furniture until it became their only source of fuel.
Once things started to run short, the recriminations would start,
though. A couple of the kids had wanted to take their chances
in the wilderness. Most of the others had been willing to take
their chances on the streets and trust the vampires not to simply
give them a deliberate O/D. They would all start laying the
blame at the feet of the couple and their unborn child as soon
as things started to run out.
Lorne hoped he wouldn't have to wait that long.
Despite Scheherazade's comments, Angel normally did pretty well
when the chips were down.
In the skies above them, Scheherazade watched
the cabin for as long as she could before it was hidden from
view by the stark planes of the mountains. It was the last time
she would see it, after all. She almost wished they could have
taken the green demon with them, but that might have tipped
them off. Now, it didn't matter. By midnight she would be safely
on her way to a new but equally luxurious life. A couple of
hours after that, the little fire bomb that had been set up
in the locked cellar would go off, surrounded by the cabin's
store of spirits and all the spare fuel for the generator. It
would be weeks before they had any hope of identifying the bodies.
If she was really lucky, one of the girls would play dress-up
with the clothes and jewellery she'd left behind, and they might
make a false provisional identification on the basis of personal
effects. Of course, if the authorities realised they had a non-human
body in there, it could cause problems, but by that time she
and her associates would be long gone.
Back in Los Angeles, Buffy screwed the top
back onto the large jar of burn cream which she had emptied
tending to Spike's wounds and set it to one side when she realised
there was no bin in their chosen room. She rubbed her hands
together until they absorbed the last of the ointment before
reaching over to brush an errant curl from Spike's forehead.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, before
clarifying her question. "I mean, the Drusilla thing, not the
burns. I know they'll heal in time."
"I... I guess. I mean there's this kind of
empty feeling where I know I'll never see her again, but when
the memories came back, it's like this sort of distance came
back with them. Before that, I don't know. I mean the last thing
I remembered was the fight that put me in that wheelchair. We
loved each other. I would have died for her. All those things
that happened after that, her and Angel, those other demons.
All that hurt; it was wiped clean. I mean I've known for years
that we'd never get back together. It doesn't mean you stop
caring, but it doesn't cut as deep."
"You seemed pretty bad when it happened," Buffy
commented.
"That? That was nothin', not compared with...
other times." Spike sighed before continuing in a soft voice.
"Look, love, I'm not trying to shut you out, but I don't really
want to talk about it either."
"That's okay," Buffy whispered as she leant
in to claim a gentle kiss. "We've got other ways to share what
we're feeling." She drew her head back a fraction of an inch
to tell him, "I missed you, so much. It seemed like forever."
Spike's hand reached out to gently pull aside
the huge towel that Buffy had wrapped up in when she took off
her wet clothes, but his eyes never left her face. "Missed you,
too, love, when I could remember who I was missing. She wanted
me to give up on you, but I never did. I knew if I couldn't
find a way out on my own that you'd find a way to come for me."
Buffy chose to answer him with some silent
communication. She lay on her back and then shuffled towards
him, slipping her arm through the gap between his chest and
the mattress, so that she was pressed against his left side
and had only to lift her head to kiss him again. Her fingers
stroked his back, and her other hand gripped his bicep, partly
to make sure she didn't accidentally brush against his damaged
flesh. Spike leant into her embrace, his cool lips brushing
softly against hers before he traced the line of her jaw instead,
savouring the gentle beat of her pulse as they lingered just
below her ear. Buffy nuzzled against him, offering solace in
her touch.
The two came together with a gentleness that
was partly due to care for Spike's injuries and partly an expression
of Spike's sorrow and Buffy's consideration for his feelings.
Buffy whispered one word as he nibbled at her earlobe. "Mine."
She could feel his lips curve into a smile without leaving her
flesh.
"Always," he confirmed. "With or without the
scars to prove it. Just like you're mine."
"Till the end of the world, Blue Eyes."
She turned her head to reclaim his lips with
her own, but after a time, Spike evaded her efforts, working
his way down her body instead. Buffy didn't bother to ask whether
he was physically up to consummating their relationship. She
could feel his answer brushing against her thigh. Instead, she
let him decide what he wanted and let him chose their relative
positions while she continued to lavish whatever unmarred skin
she could reach with tender caresses. A thousand times her fingertips
and her lips told him without words that she loved him, that
she shared his grief. With a thousand kisses, he let her know
that her feelings were returned and shared his sadness, so that
in time, he could put it behind him. She arched against him
as his lips teased an erect nipple and then winced as he drew
in a sharp breath. She let her fingers run through his hair,
drawing him back from his position over her.
"Sit up," she whispered as if even a loud word
could break the fragile beauty that they created with their
bodies. Spike shifted to a kneeling position, and Buffy moved
to kneel opposite him. First she leant in to claim his lips.
Then, she took her turn to work her way down his body. Her teeth
grazed against the flesh on the left side of his neck. This
simulated act of feeding caused his dick to throb as she stroked
it, avoiding the tender area near the base where the creases
in his jeans had partially channelled the holy water toward
his groin. She brushed her lips against his collarbone, so perfect
in comparison to the brutalised flesh on the other side of his
neck.
She knew she should be repulsed by his injuries,
that a human, who suffered similar wounds would be permanently
disfigured, but all she could see was the man she loved. When
she shied away from the areas that had been scorched by the
holy water, it was solely to spare Spike's discomfort. She shuffled
back slightly as she ducked her head lower, her tongue teasingly
playing over his nipple before she blew delicately on the dampened
flesh to send tingles through his body. Her hands continued
to bestow gentle caresses all over, even as she began to use
her tongue to trace the lines of his abdomen, her hair brushing
against the sensitive flesh of his shaft as she moved lower.
When she finally took his head into her mouth,
Spike was unable to stifle a groan. Her tongue traced the ridge
that ran up the front ofhis dick, and she bobbed her head in
a slow rhythm. Spike's hands moved to tangle in her hair though
he didn't exert any pressure to influence her movements, letting
her set her own pace. She slowly sucked and teased at his most
sensitive flesh until she knew he was near to being unable to
endure further torture. Sitting back up, she pulled his lips
to meet her own, letting him taste his pre-cum in her mouth.
Even as they kissed she shifted to the edge of the bed, drawing
him with her. Taking his hand in hers, she rose and made her
way to the room's dressing table. She turned to kiss him one
last time before she shifted to stand facing the unit with her
thighs pressed against it and her legs slightly parted. She
bent over the unit, offering herself to him in the way that
allowed him most control over the contact between them. With
her right hand she reached behind her, and Spike took it in
his, their fingers twining in a bond that belied the seeming
crudity of their upcoming coupling.
As he pushed into her, she was unable to tear
her gaze from the mirror she was facing. It looked like she
moved on her own, but she knew that she pushed back against
her lover's thrust. She knew that it was the feel of her flesh
stretching around his dick that caused her eyes to widen and
her pupils to dilate. She knew that as he gently withdrew his
eyes watched the reflection of her own. She knew that even though
she couldn't see its reflection, it was his hand that cupped
her breast, his thumbnail rasping back and forth against her
erect nipple, causing electric impulses both there and between
her legs. She knew that his eyes would watch her every expression
until she finally screamed his name. She shivered in anticipation
as his hand shifted down, fingers splayed to cover her stomach
as if he was using it to claim her flesh as his own before thrusting
back into her. She missed the feel of his groin pressing against her
flesh but she knew that his injuries made this impractical.
Instead, his hand shifted lower using the ball of his hand in
a firm rotating massage against her clit while his fingers teased
gently at her folds. All the time she watched her own reflection,
transfixed by its changing expressions as Spike moved inside
her.
There seemed to be all the time in the world
as they moved against each other. None of the troubles of the
day were important here. The world outside their room might
as well not exist. All that was important was the way they felt
about each other and their expression of it. Everything else
faded into insignificance as they re-affirmed their emotional
bond. When they came, it wasn't to the sound of Buffy's loud
cries or screams of passion but to her tremulous sigh of contentment.
When Spike drew her back to their bed and lay on his back so
that she could tuck her shoulder under his arm, resting her
head against his shoulder and draping a leg over his. It seemed
the most natural thing in the world that they should drift off
into a gentle slumber... And as they did time continued to run
out for Lorne and his charges.
